


Stretch Marks

by SquaryQ



Series: Sweet, Sweet, Sweet Viktuuri~ [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Body Positivity, Fluffy, Insecurities, M/M, Overcoming insecurities, Post-Canon, body love, insecure over stretch marks, love your bodies people, married, married viktuuri, stretch marks, stretch marks are beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8896942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquaryQ/pseuds/SquaryQ
Summary: Viktor loved to allow his fingers to dance upon the stripes which crossed his husband’s skin. Yuuri…not so much.





	

Their room is silent as Yuuri rises from his bed, a note rests upon his husband’s pillow. He smiles fondly at it, picking up the sheet of notebook paper with cautiously printed kanji written across it. Even when so neat, the words were hard to decipher in the early hours of the morning. With a yawn, Yuuri reaches for his glasses. Resting them atop of his nose, he rubs his eyes. Slowly the world around him begins to sharpen under the power of his prescription.  The sleepy eyes trace the words again.

 

**_‘I am going for a run and then to the shop. I love you.’_ **

 

Yuuri smiles at the note again. Viktor always seemed to know how to sooth his anxious mind and nagging thoughts. Even after a year of marriage and almost two in each other’s company, Yuuri’s anxiety always seemed to prey upon him with ease.  Viktor knew that all too well and the little things like these always seemed to lead him to comfort.

 

Rising from their bed, Yuuri stretches his body before peeling off his pyjamas. His eyes flicker down at his stomach and a small sigh escapes his lips without thought coming to him. Little pinkish markings plagued his flesh, reaching upward from his abdomen and v-line toward his ribcage. They were not as offending and vibrant as they had been several months ago but time was not being kind to him.

 

Yuuri hangs his head and marches toward the mirror which Viktor had insisted they buy for their bedroom. He sighs once again, louder and allows the exhalation of breath to cast away his nerves as he looks at the glass and glares at the reflection which faced him. The markings were visible, clear as day against his toned abs. The climbing marks had stopped reaching upward but the colour had not yet faded to a more subtle white. Instead they burned a loud pink.

 

_“I always thought they were amazing, Yuuri. Each one is a signal of your journey.”_

 

_“I don’t like them.”_

 

_Viktor Nikiforov had rolled his eyes but said nothing._

 

He shivers before retreating from the overbearing impression of the looming mirror He scuttles into the bathroom and removes the rest of his clothing before taking a shower.

 

As droplets of water beat against his skin and Yuuri shampoos his hair, his eyes fixate on his arms. Once bigger and now slimmer and sculpted with the muscles of a skater, the clawing scars of beige reach from his armpits to his elbows. Thinner but darker. The rips in the otherwise clear skin attracting his attention as he massages his scalp.

 

Yuuri shakes his head and clamps his eyes shut. He had seen many posts on social media from his fellow skaters wearing those same marks on their bodies like badges of honour. Sara Crispino had posted a fortnight of un-airbrushed and un-filtered photographs of herself and her friends as they trained for Skate Australia last year! And all of those women, highly respected skaters, were covered in them.

 

Hell, even Yuuko had them across her entire torso as her “tiger stripes” from her triplets.

 

But Yuuri found it hard to look at them, unlike Yuuko who gained her kids from what those markings represented, all he had gained was weight. And then he lost it. And then gained it. And then lost it again. A sick cycle of give and take.

 

Yuuri hadn’t been as big as he was at the end of the last season before and it took him a good two months of hard work to drop that weight but unlike the pounds he dropped, the marks remained. He couldn’t help but look at them and remember that time, when his jumpers were unflattering and clothes were uncomfortable. Yuuri had been big.

 

“I’m not that size anymore,” he mutters as he rinses his hair beneath the showerhead, “I’m healthy, I’m happy, I’m healthy”

 

Once he is done beneath the water, Yuuri gets out of the shower and dries off in his room, getting dressed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. Viktor had told him to take it easy as he was still making a definitive decision about retirement. Would he be finishing everything after last season? He had been guilt-tripped by an enthusiastic Phichit to carry on for one more season just to motivate him enough to ascend to the gold medal spot on the podium. He did so and accepted a silver medal at the Grand Prix Final. But would he go again?

 

Many other skaters had mused over how addictive the podium was, winning was so affirming and positive but what caused the greater rush? Coming second. Second place would keep you at it. Christophe said he refused to retire until he had gold medals. He worked himself for ten years as a competitive figure skater before he got a gold at the end of the season at the Nationals. Ten years in Viktor Nikiforov’s shadow and he knew he had to win gold to have “succeeded”.

 

Instead of busying himself with those heavy decisions, Yuuri decides to blow-dry his hair. The noise of the hairdryer covering all outdoor distractions, such as Viktor coming back and calling for Yuuri.

 

He comes into the bedroom and creeps up behind his husband, blue eyes narrowing on the unsuspecting man. Viktor removes his gloves and sneaks up behind his husband.

 

Yuuri, still in la la land continues to dry his hair when Viktor springs an attack upon him, snaking his hands beneath his husband’s shirt, fingertips tracing the slightly prominent stretch marks that cross Yuuri’s body.

 

A shriek escapes his lips at the contact. Viktor’s hands are cold against his skin.

 

“Yuuri, is something wrong?” Viktor asks, hugging him tightly.

 

“Viktor!” he gasps with a shudder, cheeks ablaze, “Good morning.”

 

“Good morning to you too, would you like some coffee?”

 

“Please.”

 

As Viktor leaves the bedroom, Yuuri lifts his shirt and glances at the marks again, the skin pink like his cheeks.

 

 

.

 

 

Visiting the Katsuki family hot spring in Hasetsu, always made Yuuri excited, he loved seeing his family but bathing beside Viktor, who had none of the offending scars across his skin always made him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

 

The couple settle outside in the large spring where they officially became coach and charge, discussing Yuuri’s own fate in the skating world.

 

The younger of the two glances at the marks on his skin as Viktor continues to prattle on about his thoughts about coaching.

 

“I guess we were lucky that you were my first charge. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing! All I could do was learn from what I felt Yakov had done well and areas I felt I would improve upon if I were in his shoes.”

 

“Like?”

 

“I remembered when I was anxious, Yakov would always coddle me. I thought his approach was always a bit out of character for his outward appearance and I guess it does work.”

 

Both men laugh, recalling the emotional outburst Yuuri had had at the Cup of China.

 

“It worked out well for us though, in the end,” Yuuri notes as he squeezes his husband’s hand.

 

“That’s why I was thinking maybe we should keep an eye out for Yurio. Apparently Yakov’s been to the doctor’s a few times about his blood pressure.”

 

Yuuri simply nods. Viktor frowns.

 

“If you run another season you’ll be on the same ice as Minami Kenjiro again. That kid is really something else. I have to hand it to him, at nineteen I was NOT expecting him to come out so amazingly onto the silver screen of competitive senior skating.”

 

Yuuri casts a glance at the rippled impression of his stomach under the water again.

 

“Yuuri were you listening?”

 

“What?”

 

Viktor sighs and takes hold of his husband’s hand, pulling his right arm outward so he can run his fingertips over the marks which decorate Yuuri’s arm from the armpit to the elbow.

 

“I always thought they were amazing, Yuuri. Each one is a signal of your journey.”

 

“I don’t like them.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“Because they’re not what you would expect on a skater’s body. Chris doesn’t have any! Phichit doesn’t have any! Nor does Yurio.”

 

Viktor rolls his eyes before rising from the water, dragging his husband up with him. He turns, Yuuri is faced by the flawless back of Viktor Nikiforov.

 

 

Except…it isn’t flawless.

 

In the moonlit sky Yuuri’s weak eyes can faintly make out the white uneven scarring of stretch marks which cross his husband’s back.

 

“Those were from when I grew, Yurio may have them by now too. He shot up in height too. They only highlight the elacicty of skin. There’s nothing wrong with them Yuuri. I think yours are amazing, they show your journey.”

 

“Viktor…” Yuuri gasps, eyes twinkling.

 

A silence crosses the pair before Yuuri bites the bullet and embraces his husband.

 

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie to you, I was looking in the mirror today after my shower and realised how much my stretch marks seemed to have faded in a year and began to remember how I felt about them and wrote this to vent a bit.  
> LOVE YOUR BODIES PEOPLES! YOUR BODIES ARE BEAUTIFUL ^3^


End file.
